Post by chriswilliams on Jan 11, 2011 18:34:17 GMT -5
“The Most Important Promise”
======================================
A flashback to October 11, 2004
Nurse: We need a crash cart in here! He’s flat-lining!
I watch as numerous nurses rush into the room, one carrying a defibrillator and paddles, another wielding my father’s medical chart. Yet another simply staring at all of the EKGs, heart monitors, and ventilator graphs – each and every one of them showing the same horizontal line. Flat. Nurses and doctors are furiously working to stabilize my father as I watch on in silence. I don’t need a doctor to tell me that my father is near the end of his time.
Nurse: Clear!
Still nothing from the machines. No beep, no sign of life. I watch, and it dawns on me that this may have been the last time I ever saw my father alive. I am silent, hoping and praying for anything to give my father life again. Yet another nurse storms in, cluttering up the room even more, but she is not able to help my father at all. What a damn mess. This isn’t how my father would want to die.
Nurse: Clear!
Nothing. I am certain my father’s time has come. And then… I hear an unbelievably relieving sound. The slow, steady beep of the machines hit my ears again. His heart is beating again. He is alive again. That is all that matters to me.
Each and every nurse leaves the room, save for one. She motions for me to talk to her outside of the room… out of earshot of my father. I follow her outside of the room, hoping for the best, yet preparing for the worst… and that is exactly what I heard.
Nurse: Chris, there isn’t much more we can do for your father. We can do our best to make him comfortable, but his heart just isn’t going to last much longer. The disease is just shutting down his body entirely… he doesn’t have that much time left. You need to say your goodbyes. I am so sorry.
Her words don’t register in my mind; I’ve numbed myself from the pain long before this. I gaze back into the room at my father, who begins to stir. The nurse nods to me, then turns back and walks away, unaffected by death entirely. I walk into the room, now engulfed in this silence. I lock eyes with my father, whose eyes are glistening with tears. He, too, realizes that he is about to die. I sit down next to my father, knowing this will be the last conversation I ever share with him.
Chris Williams: How you doin’, Dad?
My father grins.
Jack Williams: Never been better, kid. I haven’t seen you in awhile… how’ve you been?
Chris: I’ve been better, Dad.
My father smiles again, and he even lets out a small chuckle. It’s amazing how someone can be so calm and relaxed, even in the face of death itself. He’s always been that way… nothing can rattle him, nothing can shake him.
Jack: I thought I was the one who was dying….
Chris: Don’t say that Dad, you can still pull through this.
My words are hollow. We both know there is no way that he can make it through this, but saying it out loud that he couldn’t would make it real, make it final. My father changes the subject, neither of us wanting to talk of the inevitable.
Jack: So how does it feel, being in the ring, just like your old man? I know you haven’t hit the bigtime, but you’ve got your start. The Detroit Circuit Wrestling Academy is as good a start as any. How do you like it there?
Chris: It’s tough Dad. I don’t think I’m cut out for it. The guys I’m fighting are in a completely different class altogether. They are too big, too fast, too strong… I just can’t keep up with it. I can’t make a living off of losing… hell, even when I win, the pay still isn’t that great. I don’t know how I can pay rent for my apartment on my winnings, let alone when I take a loss. And it’s not like I’m even fighting for an audience, the bleachers sit about thirty people max. I’m fighting for nobody – there’s nobody to see me perform, only the rare scout that stops by, asking the owner about his best guy. I don’t think I’ll ever be that guy. I just don’t think wrestling is what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.
Jack: Chris, don’t ever sell yourself short like that. You may not be the strongest or the fastest man there ever was, but you’ve got more heart than anybody else out there. You fight until the end, and you damn sure haven’t come close to the end yet. I know you can turn the tables on this, but you need to focus. If you put all your energy into wrestling, and loved it like I did, and worked your ass off, you can become the best anyone’s ever seen. Not just in the DCWA. The best ever. I see it in you, and I’m not saying it as your father, I’m saying it as your coach. But you have to believe in yourself before anyone else can believe in you.
My favorite thing in the world was to watch you train, and to watch you fight. I knew that every time I walk into the gym, when my son goes toe-to-toe with somebody else, he would fight with every god damned inch of his heart. I knew I had done something right, when I saw you give everything into those precious few minutes inside those ropes. You’re a fighter, Chris… always have been, always will be. So be the best damn fighter that you can possibly be.
I lean back in my chair and let his words sink in. I know I want to become the best, that much is certain, but I sometimes wonder if he puts too much stock into my ability, that I may not truly be cut out for it. I lift my hand to my head and press it roughly against my scalp, dragging a heavy hand over my hair, trying to believe in myself half as much as my father believes in me.
Chris: I want to, but I don’t know where to start. I keep losing, and these guys are always going to be more experienced. It’s just not worth the paycheck anymore.
A fire lit up in my father’s eyes that I hadn’t seen in years.
Jack: The paycheck? Since when does the paycheck matter, kid? If this disease hadn’t taken every single inch of me, hadn’t worn me to my very core, then I would still be in there, in that ring. My chance was taken from me, don’t blow yours. Wrestling isn’t about being the best there is. Wrestling isn’t about the paycheck. It’s about doing what you love, Chris, and I know deep down, you LOVE to wrestle. You’re naturally gifted to be a wrestler, but you need to just keep working at it. Train every chance you get. Lift until they push you out the weight room door. Wrestling was made for you, Chris, and you alone. Once you realize that you’re wrestling because it’s what you love to do, then you can start wrestling for the people that chant your name. They’ll be there one day, I promise. You’re gonna make it big kid, but don’t let it go to your head. Don’t forget where you came from. But if you quit, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
Chris: Maybe you’re right. From day one, all I’ve wanted to be was a professional wrestler, and I know you put me on the track to get there. I’ll be damned if I ever let you down on that one. I’ll do it Dad… I’ll become a professional someday. I’ll be a champion someday… and I’ll do it for myself, and I’ll do it for you. And someday, when everyone in the arena is screaming my name… I’ll do it for them. I promise you.
Tears are flowing down my father’s cheeks. For the first time since I can remember, tears are running down mine as well. And just then, it truly hits me – my father is going to die. That thought will stay with me forever… nothing can numb you from that. My father stretches out his hand, and I grasp it as hard as I could. We locked eyes, and just held each other for the longest time. I laid my head down on his chest, and held his hand even tighter. Then he looked into my eyes, and spoke one last time.
Jack: I love you, Chris. Goodbye.
He closes his eyes and lays his head back. I feel his grip loosen, and then go limp altogether. The steady beep of the machines went flat. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that my father was dead.
Chris: Goodbye Dad. I love you too.
I stand up, wiping the tears from my face with the sleeve of my shirt, and walk out of the hospital room door. Numb, emotionless again, I leave the hospital, setting out to fulfill the most important promise I ever made.
=========
Fade out.
=========
====================================================
======================================
A flashback to October 11, 2004
Nurse: We need a crash cart in here! He’s flat-lining!
I watch as numerous nurses rush into the room, one carrying a defibrillator and paddles, another wielding my father’s medical chart. Yet another simply staring at all of the EKGs, heart monitors, and ventilator graphs – each and every one of them showing the same horizontal line. Flat. Nurses and doctors are furiously working to stabilize my father as I watch on in silence. I don’t need a doctor to tell me that my father is near the end of his time.
Nurse: Clear!
Still nothing from the machines. No beep, no sign of life. I watch, and it dawns on me that this may have been the last time I ever saw my father alive. I am silent, hoping and praying for anything to give my father life again. Yet another nurse storms in, cluttering up the room even more, but she is not able to help my father at all. What a damn mess. This isn’t how my father would want to die.
Nurse: Clear!
Nothing. I am certain my father’s time has come. And then… I hear an unbelievably relieving sound. The slow, steady beep of the machines hit my ears again. His heart is beating again. He is alive again. That is all that matters to me.
Each and every nurse leaves the room, save for one. She motions for me to talk to her outside of the room… out of earshot of my father. I follow her outside of the room, hoping for the best, yet preparing for the worst… and that is exactly what I heard.
Nurse: Chris, there isn’t much more we can do for your father. We can do our best to make him comfortable, but his heart just isn’t going to last much longer. The disease is just shutting down his body entirely… he doesn’t have that much time left. You need to say your goodbyes. I am so sorry.
Her words don’t register in my mind; I’ve numbed myself from the pain long before this. I gaze back into the room at my father, who begins to stir. The nurse nods to me, then turns back and walks away, unaffected by death entirely. I walk into the room, now engulfed in this silence. I lock eyes with my father, whose eyes are glistening with tears. He, too, realizes that he is about to die. I sit down next to my father, knowing this will be the last conversation I ever share with him.
Chris Williams: How you doin’, Dad?
My father grins.
Jack Williams: Never been better, kid. I haven’t seen you in awhile… how’ve you been?
Chris: I’ve been better, Dad.
My father smiles again, and he even lets out a small chuckle. It’s amazing how someone can be so calm and relaxed, even in the face of death itself. He’s always been that way… nothing can rattle him, nothing can shake him.
Jack: I thought I was the one who was dying….
Chris: Don’t say that Dad, you can still pull through this.
My words are hollow. We both know there is no way that he can make it through this, but saying it out loud that he couldn’t would make it real, make it final. My father changes the subject, neither of us wanting to talk of the inevitable.
Jack: So how does it feel, being in the ring, just like your old man? I know you haven’t hit the bigtime, but you’ve got your start. The Detroit Circuit Wrestling Academy is as good a start as any. How do you like it there?
Chris: It’s tough Dad. I don’t think I’m cut out for it. The guys I’m fighting are in a completely different class altogether. They are too big, too fast, too strong… I just can’t keep up with it. I can’t make a living off of losing… hell, even when I win, the pay still isn’t that great. I don’t know how I can pay rent for my apartment on my winnings, let alone when I take a loss. And it’s not like I’m even fighting for an audience, the bleachers sit about thirty people max. I’m fighting for nobody – there’s nobody to see me perform, only the rare scout that stops by, asking the owner about his best guy. I don’t think I’ll ever be that guy. I just don’t think wrestling is what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.
Jack: Chris, don’t ever sell yourself short like that. You may not be the strongest or the fastest man there ever was, but you’ve got more heart than anybody else out there. You fight until the end, and you damn sure haven’t come close to the end yet. I know you can turn the tables on this, but you need to focus. If you put all your energy into wrestling, and loved it like I did, and worked your ass off, you can become the best anyone’s ever seen. Not just in the DCWA. The best ever. I see it in you, and I’m not saying it as your father, I’m saying it as your coach. But you have to believe in yourself before anyone else can believe in you.
My favorite thing in the world was to watch you train, and to watch you fight. I knew that every time I walk into the gym, when my son goes toe-to-toe with somebody else, he would fight with every god damned inch of his heart. I knew I had done something right, when I saw you give everything into those precious few minutes inside those ropes. You’re a fighter, Chris… always have been, always will be. So be the best damn fighter that you can possibly be.
I lean back in my chair and let his words sink in. I know I want to become the best, that much is certain, but I sometimes wonder if he puts too much stock into my ability, that I may not truly be cut out for it. I lift my hand to my head and press it roughly against my scalp, dragging a heavy hand over my hair, trying to believe in myself half as much as my father believes in me.
Chris: I want to, but I don’t know where to start. I keep losing, and these guys are always going to be more experienced. It’s just not worth the paycheck anymore.
A fire lit up in my father’s eyes that I hadn’t seen in years.
Jack: The paycheck? Since when does the paycheck matter, kid? If this disease hadn’t taken every single inch of me, hadn’t worn me to my very core, then I would still be in there, in that ring. My chance was taken from me, don’t blow yours. Wrestling isn’t about being the best there is. Wrestling isn’t about the paycheck. It’s about doing what you love, Chris, and I know deep down, you LOVE to wrestle. You’re naturally gifted to be a wrestler, but you need to just keep working at it. Train every chance you get. Lift until they push you out the weight room door. Wrestling was made for you, Chris, and you alone. Once you realize that you’re wrestling because it’s what you love to do, then you can start wrestling for the people that chant your name. They’ll be there one day, I promise. You’re gonna make it big kid, but don’t let it go to your head. Don’t forget where you came from. But if you quit, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
Chris: Maybe you’re right. From day one, all I’ve wanted to be was a professional wrestler, and I know you put me on the track to get there. I’ll be damned if I ever let you down on that one. I’ll do it Dad… I’ll become a professional someday. I’ll be a champion someday… and I’ll do it for myself, and I’ll do it for you. And someday, when everyone in the arena is screaming my name… I’ll do it for them. I promise you.
Tears are flowing down my father’s cheeks. For the first time since I can remember, tears are running down mine as well. And just then, it truly hits me – my father is going to die. That thought will stay with me forever… nothing can numb you from that. My father stretches out his hand, and I grasp it as hard as I could. We locked eyes, and just held each other for the longest time. I laid my head down on his chest, and held his hand even tighter. Then he looked into my eyes, and spoke one last time.
Jack: I love you, Chris. Goodbye.
He closes his eyes and lays his head back. I feel his grip loosen, and then go limp altogether. The steady beep of the machines went flat. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that my father was dead.
Chris: Goodbye Dad. I love you too.
I stand up, wiping the tears from my face with the sleeve of my shirt, and walk out of the hospital room door. Numb, emotionless again, I leave the hospital, setting out to fulfill the most important promise I ever made.
=========
Fade out.
=========
====================================================